


Alternate

by artemismoon12



Series: The Dwight Versus Dwyre Universe [1]
Category: CPCoulter's Dalton, Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arson, Asexuality Spectrum, Canon Divergence- Hell Night Fire, Dimension Travel, Dopplegangers, Drama, Gen, Multi, Not Beta Read, Platonic Relationships, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemismoon12/pseuds/artemismoon12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Hell Night, Dwight was gone before Harvey even rushed to get him out. Unable to save his own friends from a fiery fate, he has been given another chance to save the school- that is if she lets him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue, Falling and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also known as DvsD, the Dwight versus Dwyre universe mashup I've been toying with for a while.  
> Things to know:  
> 1\. Dimension Travel is purely a plot device to get Dwight into the universe, after that it's not too relevant. It's not a science fiction-centric fic.  
> 2\. Dwyre is not 'Dwight with boobs' and neither are any of the other Dalton characters. They grew up as girls, or transmen like Merril. They'll be different, but recognizable overall.  
> 3\. This is not a Romantic fic. Romantic relationships will exist, but will not be the focus of the story. Only confirmed relationships are tagged, but everything else is implied or teased (Like Dwyre/Tweedles).  
> 4\. Dwyre is demisexual (Dwight is not), Wendy and Dani are bi- I want it to be known, even if it's not mentioned in fic by name.  
> So that's all I need to info. dump on you- ENJOY!

He flew, through endless miles of darkness. He'd heard Alan's voice, had it told him to follow him? No. he felt the winds of nowhere flicking his hair into his face. Alan… what had Alan said?  
How long had he been falling? He wasn't sure but it felt like ages, but also like just a second. The silence was calming, like he could just fall asleep, but since he didn’t know what direction was which it might result in hitting the ground in dream and real life. He couldn't control his movements, but he could keep himself awake. 

_ The flames rose higher as Dwight struggled under the beams. They'd all gotten out, right? He didn't hear anyone, no footsteps or distant shouts. He could rest couldn't he? He felt his head drop against the hot tiled floor against his own instincts.  _

_ "Dwight?" A small voice asked through the smoke. Coughing Dwight kept his tired eyes open, trying to lift his head. He was sure the heat was making shapes he thought he'd never see again.  _

Dwight clutched to the dusty uniform shirt he wore, trying to keep himself from falling apart as he kept hurtling with no sense of direction. The tattered material flapped uselessly, maybe it'd fall apart before he reached his destination, it'd endured so much tonight: glass, fire, blood, soot, and now this incomprehensible black spiral.

_ "Dwight?" The voice asked again.  _

_ "Alan?" His eyesight was blurry, but the small dark shape had solidified enough that he saw the impossible. As if resurrected, Alan stood there in the flames, not affected by their leaping as he stretched through beams to hold his brother’s hand.  _

_ "You have to get up. It's almost over here but they'll let you stay if you first fix things for her."  _

_ "What?" Dwight rasped again, the smoke invading his lungs with sticky, cloying fingers. "They? Her? Are you really here?"  _

_ "I'm just a messenger Dwight. I know you can do it. You can help her stop it." The words swirled around him in the black, red, and yellow bones of the Art Hall. "Alan, what are you talking about?"  _

_ He coughed loudly again, the beams crashing down around him. He couldn't move, but that was when Alan's tiny hands lifted him up and threw him into flight.  _

Who had 'her' meant? Was Alan an angel sent to give him tasks to get into heaven? Was he dead? Was this the way to hell? Was 'her' another angel? Or was he a ghost… probably not. Alan would be smart enough to move on. But what was his message even meaning? There might not be enough time, but for what? He had a hundred questions, but there weren’t many answers here. 

Out of the nowhere, a tug in his chest pulled him from the continuous path, off the highway to drop breathlessly into the shadows. He tried to scream, let the universe know he wasn't just going along with it all; but he couldn't breathe. All there was, was silence. 


	2. The Huntress of Dalton Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Dwyre Houston, self proclaimed protector of Dalton Academy. She's on thin ice with the administration already, and adding a dazed, half-burnt Hunter who has her face doesn't help her chances of remaining in anyone's good books. It's not like anyone would believe her telling them he fell out of thin air...

Established in 1834, Harmonia Dalton’s Academy for the Education and Completion of Young Women- latterly known as Dalton Academy, featured any number of odd spectre effects, unsettling elements, and supernatural occurrences. Open for long enough to see it’s way through a bloody civil war, despite being in the outreaches of the babe of a state Ohio, ghosts a plenty roamed it’s halls and called it home.

Many girls had reported seeing an old groundskeeper, who when they approached would turn to reveal a face of hideous scars and missing lips; others talked of the young girl who rattled mirrors, her dress the same from when the school had still admitted twelve years old. But above all, the myth of the kissing ghost, an old boyfriend who committed suicide after being spurned by one of the girls of the school in the fifties still roamed the halls, stealing the kisses he never got to have.

At least this was all true according to one, Dwyre Houston, self-named defender of the school and all its inhabitants.  Maybe some of the reports were jokes, designed to rile her up, but she was assured there was truth to all of them even in the most roundabout ways. However to everyone else, she was simply the school ‘weirdo’, armed with a bag of rock salt and a wooden stake she kept hidden from administration (along with a variety of knifes she hadn’t the occasion to use as of yet).

“Who does she think she is? Buffy’s not real, when is she going to grow up?” one of the less informed Day girls asked her friends one day at lunch, while the dark haired huntress ducked out of sight between tables with the butt end of a stake- it was not known to the Day girls, at that moment she was intent on her escaped spider, which not even Wendy Hughes had noticed was in her hair.  

Had Dwyre heard, of course she’d immediately denounce the girl and assure her solemnly that she could never live up to Buffy’s legacy but would try her best. A couple Windsor girls had heard though, and rolled their eyes or shrugged it off, not denying they’d thought the same things but were wise enough after two years with the girl to not voice them.  Dwyre didn’t cause any more lasting harm than Aki and Drew’s experiments, although that incident with the leafblower and five alarm chili had come close.

“Leave her alone, we have a zero tolerance bullying policy- whatever the boarders do is their own business.” Rachel Paige said, closing the matter- which was soon reopened when Reed Van Kamp found the spider on her, tripped with a yelp, and threw it off right into Rachel’s hair. That was when Dwyre, unbeknownst to the Windsors even, ceased lurking and tackled the unofficial prefect and sent the two of them to the Dean’s office for ‘brawling’. 

It was after a stern lecture from the Dean for her fourth infraction this week, and a “sincere apology to Miss Paige” that Dwyre found herself near the Art Hall, (after storing the spider safely back in its tank on her shelf), sneaking through the snowfall with thick leather gloves and a satchel carrying her hunting notes, supplies, and a pot of brown ink.  She wasn’t going to let a non-hunting related lecture stop her from keeping the whole school safe.

The thing was, people thought Dwyre’s hunting was a level of fanatical, enough to even avoid her completely during some days- but compared to some fangirls she considered herself quite subtle. In freshman year she’d sprayed people in the face with Holy Water, gotten rock salt into eyes, tripped people on smudging sticks- so since she’d quietly turned sixteen she had been very good at being stealthy and out of sight. She still openly carried her salt, but she hadn’t gotten a vandalism charge in two months based on her new methods.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t believing in ghosts, ghouls, and monsters less- she knew for a fact they existed, she would insist; but she knew in order to protect people who didn’t want protecting she’d have to make them think she wasn’t helping them. If anything she thought of herself as the guardian angel of her fellow Dalton girls… even if they denied such a thing.

Which was why, on her free period, she was coming here to the Art Hall. Not many places were untouched by her influence, but she hadn’t gotten around to adding sigils, charms, and anti-warlock hexes to every part of the school. Witches were permitted because the dark ones fell under warlock hexes- also she always had a secret hope she’d develop some Willow-level powers- and the only creature she couldn’t protect against was a gollum because only a Jew could do the spells for her. She would have to look into enlisting her roommate, but despite being perhaps the only person who held any affection for her, it was unlikely she’d help.

Climbing the stairs, she noticed the white sheets draped everywhere from the Winter Showcase’s show. Reed had been going on about it, talking about her own nerves and of course, those of her fellow artists. Dwyre had an art class last semester but her sketching was atrocious enough she got out of participating thankfully.  She had seen the first in a series of assignments from Willis over on Hanover, Reed was saying good things. 

Now everything was packed up for storage before they set up for their next showcase and all the artists in the school freak out from simultaneous artist’s block. Dwyre had suggested a simple spiritual cleansing could free their mind from the negative influences, but it had been politely declined with an apprehensive step back- before of course the whispers of ‘where did she come from?’ So with a couple of eye rolls she suggested yoga or meditation, and then offered calming beeswax candles (with good fortune and imagination runes carved in the base of course).  Despite the scent, only Reed accepted the offer.  Dwyre’d almost felt proud of herself before Reed almost set her canvas on fire, and their prefect Charlene “Chaz” Amos read her the riot act.  

Such was how, even in small ways, she had difficulty getting her housemates to accept her help. It wasn’t good enough.  That was why she was here on the third floor of the Art Hall, which with the shortest ceilings would be the perfect place to start placing symbols in the grooves of the crown moulding on the luxurious brown wood panelled walls. There were so many mundane details she could easily sneak a mirade of spells and protections in without notice.

She found a step ladder in the corner, ink in one hand and a nibbed pen in the other. She had started the first rune, calligraphy shaky but mostly due to partially dried ink clogging the nib, when a slight humming started. She frowned, but figured it was one of those kind of ringing ear sounds when things are too quiet. The Art classes were on the floor below, maybe it was from the studios. She would have grabbed her holy water if it wasn’t for the runes occupying her attention.

Halfway through the first prayer she knew it wasn’t simply other students, the humming was growing and the room itself was darker by a couple shades. The ceiling lights in their daylight imitation fluorescents were still strong as ever, and the large windows were bright in the winter sun, but still it seemed dimmer. Dwyre didn’t panic, despite her own fear creeping in as it did anytime she was confronted with something potentially dangerous.

“Who goes there?” She called out, the archaic tones of some of the books she read creeping into her vocabulary. No one answered but her nib was forgotten on the bottom rung of the ladder, her feet planted firmly on the floor now with holy water raised instead of scholarly tools.

The humming seeped into the cracks of the walls, vibrating her sight as she looked about the room for a sign of human or inhuman movement. There was nothing but the humming and her.

“I warn you, I am a dangerous hunter. You should give up now.” She didn’t yell, that was the mark of an inexperienced action hero. The vibrations from the humming became real, her feet shaking and the frames of the classroom trembling.  She had to be calm, reasonable, the kind of person you’d look to for help and protection. She might have outbursts but no matter if she was scared she’d stand firm.

The noise turned from a pleasant song to a swarm of bees, buzzing in her ears. Her fingers clenched the water sprayer harder.  Something was happening, but from all her readings on the otherworldly nd supernatural she couldn’t quite place.  It didn't seem to be coming from anywhere specifically, but she raised her cross to her lips and kissed it before getting her stake out, coiled in her grip with the water sprayer still out. The buzzing got louder as she looked around the room, her sigils forgotten as the third floor’s tremble became a shaking quake.

"What the-" her swearing was cut off with a crack of feedback from nowhere, the ceiling opening up like a zipper on a fly. The endless blackness left everything up to interpretation, and despite the grey blur hurtling towards her she couldn’t help but stare.  That was, before finding herself on the floor, on her back, crushed by the dark person fired down on her.

This time Dwyre was able to finish her flurry of curses, pushing the crushing weight off her with impressive effort. She rolled out from under the bundle, which appeared at first glance to be a human boy with black hair. Springing up she tried to get a better look from a safe distance, a look of shock flashing across her face before cursing again. A visitor from another world, blasted here by means unknown. She’d been right there was something out there- nothing interesting at first glance given the moppish hair and mundane uniform- but closer observation proved interesting.

The boy- at least it seemed like a boy- was lying prone, his hair long enough to obscure his profile from where she stood. He was haphazardly arranged on the ground from his landing, and then battering of necessity from Dwyre. He seemed a teenager, in a similar uniform to her own had Dalton made uniforms for men instead of just their resident young man Mr. Portman. Though she wasn’t certain, given the amount of rips, soot stains, and splashes of blood. His skin was burned; full of glass on his back and shoulder, and what was left of his shoes were melted on the soles.

“Through hell and back,” she murmured to herself. Was he an escapee? A ex-demon? Some kind of innocent soul cast out by either realm? He answered with a low, loud cough.

Dwyre frowned at the noise, her mind flickering from mild sympathy to alertness.  This boy if human surely was involved in something nefarious to get those injuries.

“What are you?” She asked, though it was more of an order, not taking chances. If he was really injured she’d see him healed, but chances are if he came out of an inter-dimensional portal she wouldn’t want to be playing Florence Nightingale to a possible vampire who’d eat her for her kindness.

The boy coughed again, curling in on himself and grasping at air, a low groan of pain coming from where he lay on the floor. Dwyre approached, mindful of notes about injured animals lashing out in pain.

“You need a doctor. I won’t have you dying on me before I know if you’re a creature or a human.” She gripped her stake a little tighter, poising it to strike.

A gasp- then more coughing like he was about to speak. “H-human!” The self proclaimed human tried to sit up and face her, but his head just hung low and pained as he propped himself up on a presumably sprained elbow.

Frankly she doubted he was human, no one she’d ever encountered had answered that question so quickly with such a lack of incredulity. They’d often follow up with “what else would I be?” as if variations were unheard of. She would reserve final judgement of dispatchment until after she had preformed some tests. Frowning, she sprayed him with her holy water.

Which of course did nothing, except making him mildly damp and certainly quieter. “Was that holy water?” He asked.

“Do you have an immunity?” Dwyre quizzed, circling so she was at the boy’s face.

“I’m human, of course I do. Any hunter worth their salt would know not to flinch at holy water unless they-” he coughed hard, like a smoker on their first week of quitting. “-wanted to mistake their enemies.” He held his head in his hand confused. “Where am I?”

“Time, date, place, or universe?” Dwyre shot between his coughs, her heavy boots making loud ‘thunks’ as she approached again. “You just came through a portal, so even if you do seem to be human I can’t take any chances.”

“Portal?!”

At that his head shot up and Dwyre’s alarm bells went off, a sharp breath piercing whatever words were about to come out of her mouth. He had her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her colouring, hell he had her face, even her skinny, but fit frame now that she had a proper look at him. “What is your name?” She demanded.

“Dwight Houston.” He replied. “But what do you mean portal?!” clearly he hadn’t noticed the similarities between them, but Dwyre wasn’t letting it continue.

“You’re a damn doppelgänger, I knew you couldn’t be human.” She didn’t say it aloud, but it must be the netherverse’s strange way of taunting her since she wrote her English essay on the dangers of doubling in “the Sandman”. Either that or the twins had finally made a way to make her personal hell remind her of them every second of every day. 

“Dopple-“

After mentally deciding the netherverse got it a bit wrong when constructing her double, being that she looked useless as a boy, she took a step back. “Who sent you?”  

A moment passed where Dwight and Dwyre stared at each other, her demands not being met and Dwight looking utterly lost. That was until he got it.

“Holy Castiel.”

‘Castiel’s got nothing to do with it.” She said as he clambered to his feet. Dwyre almost gasped when she saw the true extent of the damage from fire and glass done to his clothes.

“This is a dream, it’s got to be. This can’t be what he meant by ‘her’.” Dwight said, looking around for an exit. He seemed panicked when he saw the interior of the Art Hall, “I can’t be here.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, trying to get closer before he spiralled around, side stepping her easily. Frustrated and determined, she grabbed again, going for his shoulders but getting his arm instead, she worked with it though, her stake at his throat and her eyes narrowing upwards at him as she tried to hold him in place. “Answer me, you’ve got my face and now you’re trying to leave without giving me my answers.”

Stunned, Dwight could only drop backwards, her hands gripping him pulling her along with him. He rolled his shoulder, throwing her off as he placed his hand out backwards to brace his fall. Dwyre, unfortunately, hit the floor headlong and skidded to a quickly manoeuvered crouch. But he was already limping across the hall and down the stairs before she got her footing back. Cursing Dwyre followed, her instincts serving her well that this was a boy not to be trusted- a doppelgänger no doubt sent to spread fear and dread about her already shaky presence in the school. It wasn’t as if she had anyone but the twins to vouch for her if something went wrong, and that was only because of the nickname and what she could only guess was some misguided form of sexual attraction. If any Houston was pulling shit in Dalton it was going to be laid on her shoulders, and she wasn’t going to leave this school without a hero even if fate decided to throw a double heap of trouble her way.

He didn’t know where he was going, despite every single hallway lighting up in his memory with both friends, and flames. He had to get out of this hall, it couldn’t be real, not right after he’d been thrown into that darkness from flames. Unless this was his heaven, or hell, hell probably considering he was faced with a clean slate, a double, and the prospect that Alan was trapped in that other world. He just needed something concrete, something familiar- his crossbow, a glimpse of the teachers, hell even Todd. He hurried down the glass staircase, feeling the dark girl behind him, her boots making ominous sounds as she practically took the stairs four at a time.

He ducked, her flying kick missing and sending her tumbling again onto the landing. He’d help her up, but he knew if she had been the double to arrive on his doorstep he would have done the same thing. Maybe more questioning, apparently she was quick with that stake, but he couldn’t fault her.  If she was really his double she’d dispatch him- as if he hadn’t had enough near death situations, unless this was death, he amended.

Somehow he managed to evade her, and with the glass opening up new cuts without the aid of excess adrenaline from the fire he felt the pain truly set in. But it was this or get done in by his own double. He ducked into a meeting room on the first floor, and to his relief heard her pass him.  Sighing gratefully he let himself slip down to the floor, the pain washing over him like a wave.  He needed painkillers, or a healing spell, or a doctor, or all of the above. Maybe his double’d want to make it a fair fight and let him take her up on the doctor offer.

Dwight thought he was alone, curled and coughing as quietly as he could in the empty meeting room. But he didn’t get a chance to observe his injuries before a short girl, and a fine-boned young man walked in.

“So I have a ton of castoffs from the Vuitton runway last spring, if you don’t mind modifying clothing, I’m sure a couple trouser/sweater sets would fit without much work, even without bone thin hips. You’ll look great when you’re out with Sydney, I promise.” The short girl explained, her arms full of menswear magazines. “I mean if my dad’s got all the GQ shoots lined up for the next few years, I’m sure we can even keep you ahead of the curb.”

The boy shrugged pleasantly, “I just thought another artist would have a good opinion of what does and doesn’t look good. I know aesthetics are important.  Just can you try and help me look less… tiny?”

Dwight watched the back and forth between the strawberry blonde designer, chattering on in her blue and black kilt like she wasn’t reminding him of someone incredibly familiar. The boy was harder to place, but the kind grin and old-fashioned haircut was strikingly familiar.

The girl placed the magazines down, their backs still to Dwight who had buttoned his lip and was unsure if he should hide or let them discover him bleeding out on their floor- even if this was a hell of sorts. But where did he know them from? Were they doubles too? Or maybe Dobry girls in Dalton-style uniforms? His double’d mentioned a portal, but besides her what changes to this universe could there be? 

“Don’t worry, I could make you look like a tank if I needed, but- ow!” The girl squeaked, slits of red across her hands from not just one but multiple papercuts.

“Reed are you okay?” The boy asked, worried.

Reed pulled a pile of bandages from her bag to apply to her fingers. “Ouchie.” She sucked her thumb before applying the peachy toned plastic, “I’m fine. They’re not deep Merril.”

Dwight’s eyes widened at the exchange between the backwards friends, baffled at both the similarities and the differences he saw- the sweet motherly Merril from Hanover house, who occasionally let him sit and have tea with Danny, had a double who could apparently out-dapper Blaine in a crooner look-alike contest. And Reed well, just as clumsy, but somehow he wondered if the short hair was this universe’s version of trendy, or simply another hazard averted. But neither seemed murderous with plans to take out their counterpart, then again maybe they already had.

Apparently he’d gasped aloud because something caused the pair to turn around, alarmed. Reed shrieked, her bandages forgotten when she saw the state of their intruder, hidden behind the door looking like death warmed over. Which he supposed he was in a roundabout way, he figure David would have high-fived Wes at a pun like that but now was not the time to joke about his condition.

The shriek, coupled with Merril’s apparent adherence to manners resulted in the boy first comforting Reed before crouching down to Dwight with his hand outstretched. “Do you need help?”

Dwight wasn’t sure if he should accept the gesture or pinch himself to wake up. Back in the fire maybe, but he was in the frying pan now if his double found him. Was it like time travel, where if you messed with things you’d ruin the future? It was the past he assumed, there was more snow outside the single window and Reed had a coat draped over the chair.

“Where’d he come from?” Reed wondered, still quite unnerved, but given Dwight’s state and age he didn’t seem like a threat.

She approached but Dwight scrambled back- “I’m fine, I don’t need a dou-” 

Reed must have inadvertently alerted the huntress after his head, her desperation for something more concrete to defend against showing.  The door, already ajar was flung open, crushing against Dwight’s knees and making him cry out in pain. It wasn’t like he’d already gotten tossed out a window and caught in three explosions in the past twenty four hours, no he was just a was obviously he noted sarcastically to no one but himself.

“There you are!” Dwyre exclaimed, her stake raised; “You got away too fast last time.” She made to grab him before seeing her audience, and almost instantly straightening up, coughing awkwardly. “Uh, you banged yourself up pretty badly when you fell down the stairs, you shouldn’t hide next time. Come on.”

Without protest, too tired to do anything but let himself be carried to certain death, he saw the worried faces of the small girl called Reed and the boy called Merril. His double seemed to catch them off guard just quickly enough to ensure they weren’t alert enough to pick up on homicidal tendencies. He could have thrown her again, but he felt so tired; he’d close his eyes, but he wouldn’t let himself down in such a way.

He found himself dragged through the light snow and harsh wind, unsure of where she was taking him. The layout was the same but the feeling of a foreign landscape, an aura of pervasive strangeness permeated the late winter snow. Dwight knew he was shivering, he wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather despite the drifts not even reaching his ankles. The girl, who still had yet to introduce herself, brought him to the back of what he could only indentify as a strange pastel Windsor house- a light blue and gold flag in the window, sticky green confetti and silly string keeping it glued there.

“No one can see you.” She hissed, “I’ll continue my questions when you’re not bleeding everywhere. Now shush, I’ve got to bust in.”

He would normally ask someone how, why, or in what way they would break into presumably her own house- unless his doppelganger was a Hanover, he couldn’t see her being a Stuart. He was left ungracefully in a heap as she pulled off some frosted bricks at the back wall of the house, piece by piece until a very large dumbwaiter was revealed. “Left from days when there’d need to be firewood brought up to the servants in the attic, now hold still.”

He didn’t struggle as she hefted him into the small compartment, and didn’t squawk when everything went black upon the door closing. He did feel himself being lifted high, presumably to the attic like she’d said, but maybe she’s just let go of the cord and say he was an intruder, make his death look like an accident. He could concede that was a good plan; and what were the chances he’d survive two three-story drops? He could feel his eyes blurring, even in the darkness, and it hurt to even keep awake. He figured it would be a concussion, but he couldn’t be sure unless his captor took a further mercy.

Dwight sat in the dumbwaiter for maybe ten minutes, stopped for five of them until the door was opened and he was caught falling backwards into a dusty, dimly lit attic. He was once again in the hold of that girl with the same dark eyes and pursed mouth as him; was this how he looked when he was unimpressed? Maybe not.

He jolted in surprise when he felt her pick him up more gently this time, brushing the hair out of his eyes and looking down at him. Impressed a little at her strength but without any of his own to speak to her he just let himself be laid out on a couch, her gaze inspecting him for all or any wounds.

She still looked apprehensive towards him, but the murderous glare had faded into curiosity. She asked, not expecting an answer, “What happened to you in your crazy alternate dimension?”

“Hell.” Was all he managed to get out, before he fell unconscious.


	3. The Fugitive in the Attic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awake at last, Dwight is struggling to understand why his captor let him live; and how this world is so similar, yet different to his own. Dwyre on the other hand has bigger things to worry about, namely dodging the drama of the "Wonderland Girls" and their ilk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Dwyre's study is based off of Dwight's panic room in "Siege"
> 
> 2\. Girls don't typically get named "the Third" unless they're queens, but to keep some aristocratic air to Logan's female self, I decided on her parents giving her a masculine middle name after a relative. Only friends call her "Jessica", most know her as "Miss Wright", and enemies (i.e Windsors) call her "Logan". Thus you'll meet characters who call her variations of this. 
> 
> 3\. Visual for Elizabeth (Kurt) Hummel's introduction; she's incredibly short haired, wears a lot of plaid, and is generally a stereotype in the 'uniform' of a queer woman. It's a small note, but it's mentioned.

Dwight didn’t know how long he had slept, but presumably enough time had passed that it was early morning judging by the tinge of dawn through the dusky attic windows. The snow had slowed, but still drifted about outside the window. He made to get up and see if it was all a dream, yesterday and Parent’s Night, maybe he’d just fallen asleep in his weaponry stash and everything would be okay, but the pricks of pain along his shoulder and side told him it wasn’t so much a dream as a nightmare come to life.

That fire, the explosions, all his friends…. He hoped they had all made it out safely, even Larson, despite his general dislike of the actor and all Stuarts. Even a small piece of him in the back of his mind didn’t want Clavell burnt alive, he had to pay in all ways for his crimes, and that included facing those he’d hurt. Dwight felt his shoulder gently, trying to see how useable it was- someone had wrapped it in gauze and some kind of herb and chemical mix which smelt awful but seemed to be helping considering he wasn’t dead from blood loss.

He took a deep breath and coughed again, but it wasn’t nearly the same deep damaging sound he had before; that was when he noticed the oxygen mask lying next to his face, like one of the ones from planes. He felt woozy, but considering where he had been it was a vast improvement. Whoever had left the oxygen mask had taken care of him. They had some kind of experience treating wounds, or at least practice with injuries.

Still disoriented, but sure of his own abilities he tried getting up, only to be stopped by a rattle and tug on his wrist. He looked down and saw a handcuff attached to the bottom bar of the fashionably beat up couch. Sighing he laid back down in the unfamiliar shirt and waited for his captor to return.

Almost on queue the dark haired girl who’d threatened him with the stake came in with a tell-tale roll of gauze and a medical kit on one arm. In her other hand she had a bottle of water. This was when Dwight got a good look at her, when she wasn’t threatening him that was. She was right, it was uncanny how they really did look alike down to the smallest detail of their faces. As she approached, a small frown on her face, he saw her eyes were the same angled shape, her hair longer but just as thick- she had a series of triangles on her bicep done in what looked henna, but considering he had done an anti-possession mark like that a couple months back he counted it as another similarity. She dressed better than him he guessed, or maybe it just looked more fashionable because she was a girl. He noted she did have less talismans, just one string of multi-coloured beads around her wrist and a couple necklaces. Odd, he wore more jewellery than his doubled self.

Then he noticed, where were _his_ talismans? His cross was gone, where was his pentacle? His ankh? The runes? The eneochian sigil?

Without registering the panic growing in Dwight’s face the girl sat next to him and put the kit on the floor. “You’re awake? Or is this a sleep walking type deal?”

“You took my talismans,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, “I was running tests, congrats, you’re human.”

“I know that!” He squawked but his indignation was not quelled when she pulled him up and started taking off the loose shirt he had on.

He tried to swat her away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I need to change your bandages. You can’t die on me before I figure out who you are and what you’re doing here.” She said matter-of-factly, her movements clinical as she checked his shoulder, prodding gently with the pads of her fingers. “You’re healing better than expected, unless you were injured inside the portal it might have done you some good.”

“Who are you?” Dwight demanded, feeling quite uncomfortable with her touch, but he stopped protesting when she started unwrapping the old bandages and he saw the layers of dried blood. She was ding something right, better not antagonize her.

“I don’t think you should be making demands.” She didn’t look at him as she looked over the bare shoulder, dabbing with alcohol wipes and more of that herb and chemical mix from her first aid kit. Interestingly it looked better stocked than his own, a mix of homemade and EMT standard equipment, she even had neat colour coded labels on the glass stoppers.

She noted him looking, “I have EMT training, a week or two, but the private doctor was asking too much for my dad not to get suspicious about the credit card bill. It’s provably better than anything you can conjure up. You’re welcome.”

Dwight frowned but let her continue. “You needed a blood transfusion, the nurse had some O, so don’t worry about rejection. You also had a back full of glass, I have enough for a stained glass window. I also purified you, checked for demons, and let you borrow some of the clothes the girls’ boyfriends are always leaving in the laundry hamper. I’ll give you your medallions back after I cast some spells, but don’t worry, this is the panic room.”

He still felt naked without his talismans, even more so without his shirt but he knew it was probably ruined beyond compare from the Art Hall. The best he could hope for now was a bad dream, all of this- the fire, the portal, and now being trapped in the attic of Windsor House.

The attic was like his own secret stockpile, but somehow more lived in. He didn’t have a couch back home, but this girl’d set up a small outpost in a way. A couch, a desk and chair, a table covered in papers and more glass jars of various ingredients- some looked mundane and others less legal. The posters of _The Craft_ and _Buffy_ made him feel a little more at home, even if the actresses were changed, it was interesting to see the _Supernatural_ poster above him still starred a ‘Misha Collins’- except he was a dark haired ‘she’ in a pencil skirt alongside two male co-stars.

He didn’t know why he volunteered the information, but he did anyway. “My name is Dwight Houston. I’m a sophomore in Dalton Academy and my friends call me ‘white knight’, which is how I ended up getting here- I think. I don’t really know.”

She stopped, her jumpiness calmed down from their initial encounter. She still flinched but it seemed she’d had some time to consider it, and both of them knew they were connected- so when she said, “My name is Dwyre Houston- and we’re in Dalton Academy. A girls school.” She felt the need to say it, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“So everything is flipped. You’re me and this is a parallel world.” Dwight’s anxiety flared, he couldn’t have a rational conversation about this! But still it was better than any other options of alternate universes he could consider. The purpose of it all however was lost to him.

"It seems so. But it’s not a perfect system, I know I wouldn’t allow myself to become so injured.” She had her hands gripping the edges of the chair, giving away she was not nearly as blasé about the situation as she let on. That made two of them. Maybe shock of confirmation did it, but they kept speaking like it was just another day- although for a couple demon hunters it might be.

“I didn’t just let this happen.” He bit back.

“Sure you didn’t. Just like you didn’t mean to come here. You don’t just get transported to an alternate dimension, that kind of thing takes some serious power.” Dwyre said. She knew rituals intimately, summoning up the power to cross worlds didn’t just waltz in and decide to pick you, there was either purpose or determination- which is why she had assumed there was a doppelgänger attempting to steal her life. Although she wasn’t ruling out homicidal tendencies the revelation of parallel dimensions meant she had to get this other Houston to the world he belonged in.

“It wasn’t my decision, it was like… divine intervention.” It was all he could come up with when he saw that singular image of Alan reaching out to him in the flames. His long dead brother returned for just a minute, to tell him he was supposed to help “her”. Well, he supposed he had found that illusive ‘her’, but It wasn’t like he knew what to do. And she certainly didn’t trust him, no matter what he might tell her- to be fair he would have already had her under interrogation, without the stake but he probably wouldn’t have patched her up. Maybe she played fairer than him, it was inexplicable, just like his very real trip across time and space.

“Really?” She didn’t believe him.

“Yeah. I was… I was in trouble, so were my friends, and then I get told by someone who really shouldn’t have been there that I wasn’t supposed to be there either. Then I ended up here with you.” Dwight said, his wrist clanking in its cuff as if to remind he wasn’t out of the fire just yet.

“And what divine forces decreed you’d be my problem?” Annoyed, she leant back in her chair observing him. He was the mystery she had to figure out, and she was not going to overlook his testimony despite the probability he’d lie through his teeth.

“Angels probably. Ghosts definably, not that I asked for this either.” Dwight recounted. The one positive of this all is that he knew for a fact his brother was not a downstairs dweller- not that he’d had any doubts, but it was good to confirm. He’d never been able to reach him with candles or spells or his own willpower, so even that glimpse, despite its confusion had been wonderful.

Dwyre mulled this over, ignoring his attempt at bridging the gap. “Ghosts. Either way that’s not good. I don’t know of anyone who’s been able to conjure a spirit without negative forces interfering.” “I didn’t summon him!”

“Quiet, I’m thinking.” Dwyre shushed him, staring into space for a moment. Dwight wondered if this was what he looked like when he wa thinking: slightly constipated and fluffed out like an irritated owl? Maybe her hair leant itself to the illusion.

Dwight sighed and leant back frustrated, this was useless. What would she have to think about? If she could bandage a wound and do a blood transfusion she was surely more than capable of a trans-dimensional ritual. Nefarious witchcraft aside, Dwight could see it was a good option for Dwyre. The clarity without stabbing pains in his back definitely helped his own thinking, and he could see that it wouldn’t be good to keep him here, but it would be worse trying to let him go into an unfamiliar parallel world.

“Alright,” her sudden words snapped Dwight out of his own disgruntled pout. “You’re going to stay here until I can figure out how to send you back. But until then you are to be confined to this room and not leave at all. You are not to escape and cause harm to any of my housemates or even the Stuart girls. You will not touch my books or my equipment. You are to sit here and accept the terms without complaint. Agreed?”

“So you’re holding me captive? Even without magic, that’s illegal.” Dwight said, for once caring about legality if it got him out of this cuff.

“I’m ensuring the least amount of dimensional damage. Who knows what could be happening to the universe with two Houstons running around?” Dwyre assured him, quite firm. If he wasn’t so familiar with that ‘I’m right so there’ smirk he’d have snorted.

“Can I at least get my talismins back before you leave me to boredom? I don’t want to die a horrible death when you leave presumably for class.”

She frowned but nodded. Gathering the medical supplies up she went over to the bookshelf and picked out a box which rattled when moved. She threw it down next to Dwight with a deep scowl which let him know she was fully aware he technically hadn’t said yes to any of her terms. It was annoying, to be talked down to and on the receiving end of condensation, but she had given him his talismans back- and they were even polished.

Ten minutes later he was looking vaguely disappointed at his mangled crucifix, lodged in the keyhole of the now-unlocked handcuffs. Shame, he’d liked that one, but it did it’s job. He needed to figure out what exactly he had been sent here for, and the only way to do that would be to explore the school- discreetly of course.

Dwyre on the other hand was already downstairs in her room to change into her uniform for class. She usually woke up early, but after taking care of her unruly double all night she was running late.

Tanya was still waking up across the room, shaking her curls out as she sat up. She might have been bleary but Dwyre could still feel her roommate’s eyes on her; ignoring it she pulled her shirt over her head and searched for her skirt under a pile of laundry.

“How are you always up so early?” Tanya groaned.

“I have things to do, you know this.” Dwyre replied. She tried on the skirt but frowned, tossing it across the room. “This is yours.”

“I’d feel touched if you ever said that nicely.” Tanya rolled out of bed, stretching reluctantly. “You could at least pretend it’s nice we’re finally in that ‘sharing clothes’ stage.”

“As if.” Dwyre brushed off the attempt at humour from the girl who could possibly be called her only friend at Dalton; which, given the way she brushed Tanya off made sense. There were no fond smiles from Dwyre, but Tanya had plenty to give. Dwyre ignored them because she didn’t need the comfort, or so she had convinced herself.

The two of them had been roommates since Dwyre was brought kicking and screaming by her father’s servants to the Academy’s doors. The prefect at the time knew that Tanya had a brother who was deep into the occult, so because of Tristan, Tanya was saddled with a high strung girl who filled her socks with salt, wrote long internet rants on demonic possession, and edged the door with hand-woven garlic strings. Since Dwyre had received a ‘third strike’ suspension for black book of “possible succubi”, she’d calmed down. The strikes were well intentioned as far as Tanya could see (and amusingly Tanya herself had been on the succubi list, and blushed when she saw her list of ‘offences’). Dwyre had been interesting to room with, but now it was almost like they had a banter going and Tanya liked it.

She often found herself defending her roommate, even after the rock salt ice coffee (which was the first strike), and she’d always had a fondness for the strange girl. Maybe it was her oddity, or the way she cared a lot about others, just not what they thought. Maybe if Dwyre would simply let her hair down, could they develop a soft sleepover-having friendship like in the movies- she already had something like that with the writers club, but it’d be neat to lure Dwyre into Hello Kitty barrettes and salmon-pink lipgloss.

Dwyre was more suspicious of Tanya’s interest in her, but after the girl advocated for her during strike two she had realized she needed allies. It appealed to the latent rationality she found herself embracing, even if others would still question how one could be both logical and believe in ghosts. It made sense to Dwyre, and that was what Tanya explained to them at the hearing.

Now the two felt easier with one another- well Dwyre felt comfortable sharing the space, but Tanya felt like Dwyre had stopped sharing her words. She used to rant and ramble, she missed that.

“I only have half an hour to get ready, why didn’t you tell me?!” Tanya said, grabbing her phone and shaking it like the alarm was lying to her.

Dwyre bristled, “I don’t ask you to take care of me.” She knew she could have said something, called from across the room or hovered without knowing how to touch her without really touching her, but she had different priorities this morning. The fact she’d only gotten an hour of sleep last night should have tipped Tanya off to her diminished capacity.

Tanya frowned, hurt across her face that Dwyre didn’t see. “Well… can I borrow some socks? The twins stole mine for a puppet re-enactment of the Illiad.”

Dwyre just threw an impossibly white pair of socks across the room. “Keep them, I’ll get demerits if I wear them anyway.” She kept rummaging in her drawer for the rest of her pendants that she hadn’t already had tucked in her clothes for her prisoner’s purification.

“Because your legs are so pale it looks like you’re not wearing socks at all?” Tanya guessed.

Dwyre didn’t reply, but she remembered Wendy’s joke anyway. The conspirators, or Wonderland Girls, as others called them, seemed to rule public opinion on her wardrobe. She might be a favourite of their ringleaders, the “Tweedles”, but even her White Knight status didn’t help her from feeling she could, at any moment, become Joan of Arc. It didn’t bother her, but it didn’t mean she was fine to joke about it.

“See you in class?” Tanya interrupted Dwyre’s thoughts, cutting through her escape to the door.

Dwyre paused, licking her lips nervously in the dry winter air. “Yeah. English third period. See you.” And with that she left; her head didn’t have the time to worry about socks or suspensions or ‘see yous’, instead it was preoccupied with the dark haired double she had hiding in the attic, just a breath above their heads.

What was she going to do?

Dwight, to his own surprise, hadn’t left the room immediately after freeing himself from the handcuff. It was nice to be able to move without it, but he still knew there was some kind of plot going on that he couldn’t just rush into. He thought it would be easy to escape, but the dull ache in his limbs was making it hard to really move quickly. For a captor, his double sure knew how to take care of a prisoner, he couldn’t imagine what might have happened if he’d been left untreated from what was it… three explosions, two falls, and one burning building?

It was undeniable Dwyre was the ‘she’ Alan had talked about, but he couldn’t understand what had been meant by helping her. She seemed pretty capable on her own, even if he wasn’t exactly at peak form to fight back against her.

Dwight rubbed his shoulder. He couldn’t get over it, he’d seen Alan. Sadie or Morgan might tell him it was a hallucination, but compared to where he was, Alan coming from beyond the grave was the least troubling part of this all.

He’d seen him again. Even if just for a moment he’d thought his rituals had worked, the spells had really reached out and found his brother. Did it make him happy? Sad?

Resentful maybe, that his brother was being used as some kind of shadowy messenger by whatever force brought Alan back and then Dwight here. But it wouldn’t do him any good to get angry, there was work to do.

With a lot of huffing, Dwight brought himself up off the couch with a groan. He couldn’t pinpoint a source of the pain for a moment because it was just everywhere. The portal must have done a lot of the work though, because he didn’t think his double had him on any painkillers stronger than an aspirin considering the blood transfusion would just dilute anything she put in him. Sarcastically he thought it was nice of the otherworldly forces to just leave him with enough healing to do so that he wouldn’t need an ER.

The room didn’t look like it was very secure; the door to the attic was just a short hole in the side of the wall, opposite the dumbwaiter. He could probably take the ladder outside easily because he knew at least in his dimension there was no way to properly fit a lock on it. She must have taken the ladder away though, he knew there was no way a double of his wouldn’t be paranoid enough that someone would sneak up and catch a glimpse of him.

It wouldn’t do any good to try and drop down the attic door until he was sure he could handle it, so instead he perused the bookshelf looking for hints to how trained his double was in their chosen career path. Similar to his own dorm bookshelf, it wasn’t just covered in books, though the artifacts and apothecary-ready supplies seemed more DIY in their origin- Etsy maybe? Perhaps his double was more into gardening because the jars of vervain and foxsglove looked fresh. Impressive, more impressive than the bookshelf which looked almost paltry compared to his own collection curated by him and his friends back home.

Titled ranged from the expected ‘Demons and their Origins’, ‘Supernatural: A Field Guide’, and ‘The Book of Thomas: Unpublished Papers from the Vatican Library’, to ones he wouldn’t have thought of ordering from himself: ‘Rediscovering the Amazons: Female Superhumans, Witches, and Goddesses’, ‘Protective Jewels and Charms 101’, and ‘Nasty Needlepoint for Nuns’. The last one was interestingly a sampler of superstitions from catholic nuns who would use household crafts for protection from the devil in their cloisters. He went to open a book on Edwardian death cults when something exploded downstairs.

The next thing Dwight knew, he was on his knees gasping for breath. His chest hurt, constricting and tight. The room was spinning and he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

What had exploded? Where was he? Was that plaster on the ground or just paper? Why were there flames everywhere? What had exploded? Was it the supply closet?

No. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm. This wasn’t there. Nothing was on fire. It’s not real.

His fingers reached behind him for the empty oxygen mask, it didn’t have anything in it but breathing in and out into the inflatable bag seemed to help fade the imagined heat around his face. There was no fire. He was in an attic, not in the Art Hall. None of his friends were hurt. He’d gotten everyone out, he’d saved them. This wasn’t the Art Hall, he repeated to himself for who knows how long.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours that he sat there with his heart beating like it was about to give out. When it finally felt like the fear had passed, he opened his eyes. To his relief all he saw was the poster-plastered walls of the attic and the early morning light streaming in from the window. His shoulder still hurt, but he was wonderfully cold and uncharred in his curled position at the foot of the couch.

What had just happened to him? He’d lost control, and for a minute he wasn’t in the attic but back in the Art Hall. It had felt so real when he heard that explosion. If he was back home it wouldn’t have made a difference, he told himself. Drew and Satoru always blew things up and it didn’t bother him, but before then he hadn’t been trapped in a burning building with no way out but a window he all but forced others through.

His fingers slowed, letting the mask slip as he gasped, feeling useless and weak. Why had he done that? What was wrong with him? He had to keep control of himself if he was ever going to get home, but that feeling…

Dwight didn’t move from the floor for a long time.

“Hey, Dwyre!” A voice interrupted Dwyre’s codified notetaking. The teacher’d passed around exercises on needle versus leaf identification, so everyone was free to speak; otherwise no one would probably be bold enough to talk over the teacher- except herself of course, but usually they were important questions (she could later apply to hunting).

Turning, she saw it was Elizabeth who’d called her over. “Dwyre, you want to work together on this? Dana and Wendy already paired up so I’m without a partner. You’re good with plants aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be in a junior class if I wasn’t.” Dwyre replied sharply. Elizabeth frowned but spread out the papers titled “Natural Science 331”, as if offering them to Dwyre. She didn’t know why the coiffed and confident new girl was talking to her, but Dwyre took it that she did indeed need help. It wasn’t everyday someone approached her without an intent to bait her with a ghost story, only to laugh riotously with their friends later about her freak out. Just showed how little the new girl knew about how Dalton operated.

“Great, you take the evens, I’ll take the odds?” Elizabeth smiled. Dwyre sighed before reluctantly turning her chair around to face Elizabeth.

“I already started, so just check if you got the same thing.” Dwyre said

She didn’t know why today of all days Elizabeth was singling her out, she had enough on her plate that should couldn’t worry about whatever personal problems Windsor’s new princess would bring to partner work. Everyone knew drama followed Hummel like a cloud, and it frequently rained all over everyone around her as evidenced from a couple google searches and crazy Facebook results of McKinley High. If anything personal came into this purely academic-

“Thanks for working with me, I’ve been so nervous since I got the news I passed.” Elizabeth said, after checking her answers which were correct. “Everyone’s been so worried, and now I have to work with Jessica, Blair’s going to be so mad.”

Dwyre looked up from the papers with a flat look. ‘Do I look like I care?’ she was about to say, but Elizabeth continued.

“You’ve been around Dalton for a while right? Is it always so competivie? Murdoch seems like she’s out to get me just for being from a public school.” Elizabeth asked, still writing but talking as effortlessly as if she wasn’t crossing a teacher’s ethics with _Pinus Edulis_.

“Honestly it’s probably because you’re a lesbian. Gay people make Murdoch uncomfortable.” Dwyre said frankly. She really didn’t have time for this.

“But that makes no sense, Jessica is her favourite student isn’t she?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Dwyre rolled her eyes, writing down another line before answering. “Logan doesn’t ‘look’ gay to Murdoch. You on the other hand probably freaked Murdoch out with the plaid and the hiking boots out of uniform. Not to mention the short hair.”

“So what, because I prefer jeans to skirts I‘m getting marked down?” Elizabeth asked.

“Pretty much.” Dwyre said finishing her half of the worksheet; of which Elizabeth was still only halfway through.

“You’d know all about that Houston.” Wendy Hughes voice cut in, “Murdoch practically shudders whenever you walk by with your leather boots, and you’re straight.”

“I’m n- whatever Wendy. Just finish your work.” Dwyre was endlessly annoyed by the ‘Hare’ and the ‘Hatter’, who never seemed to go a day without ‘playfully’ ribbing her.

Wendy smiled, “All done! And don’t worry we finished so fast, the phrase ‘speed-demon’ only refers to dear Dana’s boyfriend around us.”

“shut up,” Dana laughed, “So Elizabeth, we heard Murdoch has you sticking around despite a low mark.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to do tutoring with Jessica Wright until my grade comes up.” Any smiles the best friends had before were gone. Dwyre couldn’t help but sigh, yes, tell the Wonderland Girls their satellite “Knave” was going to do more damage to the fragile Windsorian ego. She rested her head on her hand, ready to be bored out of skull.

“That’s crap! Logan’s a whole different level of crazy, you can’t go. What about Blair?” Wendy asked, leaning over further in her chair to face Elizabeth. Both friends seemed to be making Elizabeth more worried about the situation.

“She seems okay-”

“She’s not, she’s practically Regina George- only person more out of balance than that bag of cats is salt-killer over here.” Wendy gestured. “At least Wright is medicated.”

Dwyre glared, the strike one reference not appreciated. “Yes, because my beliefs are obviously weirder than sexual harassment.”

“I’m still not sure you’re not faking this whole ‘reformed’ thing anyway checkerboard.” Wendy shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder before relaxing into the conversation. “Anyway, ‘Liz…”

Dwyre didn’t pay attention to the rest of it, choosing to turn her chair around and run through a list of curses she could, but wouldn’t use against Hughes. Of all the days, she couldn’t deal with pissy high school drama or the ongoing triangle of Logan, Elizabeth, and Blair. It was just too annoying and frankly bizarre that romance was such a thriving force for any of these girls. Last year Blair was practically engaged to the manicured, flawless Jessica Logan Wright, next minute it was another Warbler, now Logan was vying for Elizabeth and really? It was too complex to even try to unravel. Let the conspirators deal with it, she was glad she wasn’t friends with them.

The next periods trudged on after the morning of quiet work. Lunch came soon enough where she grunted goodbye to Tanya, who stared bewildered in the middle of a sentence about the Austen novel they were supposed to read. Quick as a click, Dwyre ran back to Windsor, taking the ladder two rungs at a time to find she hadn’t imagined the whole mess. There really was a doppelgänger in her attic.

She had expected to maybe find him studying, or sleeping, or attempting to break out of his locks; but instead she found him completely free of the cuff, sitting on the floor beside the couch doing nothing but rub his temples and stare into space. She’d done stranger, but to find him free, but not attempting to escape? Why?

She cleared her throat, to which Dwight leapt about a foot in the air, unaware she had even walked in. “Hey.”

“I’m not going to escape,” was the first thing out of his mouth.

Dwyre stared back. She hadn’t imagined that would happen, if their positions were reversed she probably would have already kicked her captor in the groin and ran for it. However he was still here. Odd. Something was keeping him here.

“Why?” She asked, putting down the boxed sandwiches she’d grabbed for herself and the boy (she still couldn’t get herself to refer to him as ‘Dwight’).

Looking like he’d thought about what he would say, he didn’t hesitate. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I think I can’t get home until I help you.”

“With what? Latin homework?” Dwyre asked incredulously.

“I am pretty good at Latin, but I doubt that’s it.”

She crossed her arms, opting not to lean against anything or relax. The day was just getting more exasperating by the minute. “alright, so what exactly has got you thinking that I need your help and it’s your divine duty to help, with whatever netherworld powers you possess?”

“I’m a damn human!” Dwight said, uncurling from his spot on the floor. He missed the corner of a smirk on Dwyre’s face, but it wasn’t like she joked often so it didn’t matter. “I was sent here by something, well, someone. My brother Alan appeared to me and sent me here instead of leading me into the light.”

That caught her attention, any vestiges of humour slipping until only a scowl fit her face. “Alan, not Alanna?”

“Yeah, he was my brother.” Dwight quietened. “Wait, did you…?”

Dwyre turned heel, “I’m not talking about this with you. Your ghost guide might be fooling you but you’re not bringing me into it.” The sandwiches lay forgotten as she made to leave, trapdoor already open.

“No, wait!” Dwight wished he had his salt or holy water, but he’d venture out into the strange alternate world if it meant he could convince her to work with him. Alan’d given him a mission, he was sure of it now. It wouldn’t be easy, defending people never was, but if his double was in danger- “You’re already involved, it’s intervention! It’s got to be!”

Dwyre didn’t acknowledge him, cursing to herself and tugging at her jacket. There was no way she’d open up that floodgate, and not to a interloper at that. Boots clunking, she hit the corner to the staircase and was out of the door before Dwight could reorient himself. They were both lucky it was a communal lunch period, because most of the girls were either in the cafeteria or the library.

“Uh… Dwyre?” He called out, the word sounding odd on his tongue. “Come on!” He wished he was fully healed, moving quickly wasn’t an option right now. He did know that having lost sight of her, he was going to have difficulty getting back to the attic without being spotted. Then again, he couldn’t be up in an enclosing floor if whatever version of Drew and Satoru here decided to blow something up again.

Air… yeah, fresh air. Or something.

He opted for the inside corridors, mentally preparing some speech if he was caught as a boy in an all-girls school. The few times he’d tagged along to Dobry back in… his universe, the boys were not allowed anywhere but neutral meeting ground with teacher chaperones and nametags. He had to imagine the rules were similar here. It was good his hair was getting longer, and the black patterned scarf he stole off a rack in Windsor also helped. It was so cold in here.

A few seniors walked by, but he hid behind some potted plants as if he was in a spy movie. Maybe this sneaking would be good, he could see what danger his double was in and help save her without her even knowing. A true hero sought no recognition for his actions, but only did it for the reward of a good deed.

The layout was only slightly different, so he managed to make it all the way to the teacher’s lounge without incident. Bad luck for him though, the layout was enough that Stuart was right next to it, and it resulted in a fast dive behind a curtain when he saw a pair of girls arguing in quiet shouts. Peeking out, he wondered which Dalton boys they equated to, or if they were entirely exclusive to this world.

“Erica, you need to let me handle it. Everything is fine.” A tall brunette said to her shorter companion, who at that moment held what looked like a mountain of essays. Were they arguing about schoolwork? Dwight knew better than to think it was demonic possession with women, they were less understandable than the Angel tablet without a prophet.

“Everything is not fine, or are you going to wait until things get really bad before you report it?” Erica asked in what seemed to be her softest voice.

The brunette shook her head, stubbornly ignoring whatever logic was trying to be used against her. “You don’t get it, it’s not anything out of the ordinary for people like me. I’ll just ask Izzy, or Nadia. If it gets bad I’ll just get a lawyer or a PI and it’ll be okay. Now quit bitching at me.”

Dwight cowered behind his curtain as he saw them move towards him, the brunette clearly trying to leave the argument. Erica wouldn’t let her, but they were already halfway down the hall with the echoing argument when he was able to poke his head out again. If he’d been able to hear over the clicking of the brunette’s stilettos, or the constant back and forth he might have heard ‘Jules, listen’, but instead all he got was a strike of determination to ignore the Stuarts even more intensely as he plotted his escape back to the attic.

It was the end of the school day, and Dwyre didn’t want to see anyone at all. Least of all her double, but there he was hiding in the shadow next to the interior front door of Windsor. She’d already beaten off three potential fights with Wendy, a detention for carving ‘Dean Ramsey is possessed’ in her Latin desk (even though the grammar was perfect), and more than enough emotional trying from that doppelgänger of hers. Now here he was, out where anyone could see him, at a time when everyone was probably in the common room warming up for the evening mischief.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” She grabbed him by what looked like Akikusa’s scarf, and dragged him behind one of the statues the school decided ‘brightened up’ the hallway.

“Planning a raid, obviously. You get the computers, I'll design the characters.” The two were looking at one another as if the other was insane. “Why the hell do you think I’m not just walking into the middle of a girl’s dorm?”

“Well you can’t stay out here, come on, we’ll use the dumbwaiter again.” Dwyre said, tugging the scarf more firmly over his hair and shrugging her coat off and pushing it in his hands. “It’s probably too small but no one can know I’m sneaking a boy in. They’ll think it’s for nefarious reasons.”

“I can assure you, only you and I would think that.” Dwight said as he put on the coat, careful not to split the shoulders.

Her eyes flashed, lips thinning to a straight line. “Don’t think you know me because you have my name or face.”

They might have been able to make it, had a troop of Windsor girls not burst out of the common room at that moment, leading a bouncy girl with bouncier curly hair out of the common room, the vestiges of a NERF fight still occurring in the common room without the blonde twins in the middle of the throng.

“Oh god, they’re here.” Dwight struggled more to hide himself, if anyone could recognize a weird situation it was the Brightmans; surely Dwyre’s friends would know something was amiss here. Was that Shane? Wow, he was… perky as a girl. And Wes, and David, and… god Blaine was so short.

Dwyre ignored him, shoving him behind the door without regard for his squawk of protest. No one noticed her until Blair turned and saw her. She smiled and nodded, and nudged Shaena who waved- but that was the extent of it. Chatter of ‘I’ll miss you’ and ‘you better transfer’ overtook anything else. She sighed, turning to tug the unruly boy she’d been saddled with up, but he just looked at her curiously from his spot behind the door.

“You’re not going with them?” He asked, confused. Dwight understood if he needed to hide some more, but it wasn’t a hardship to wait until the conspirators had seen the Anderson broth- sister off. They’d be outside so it wasn’t like they could use the dumbwaiter right next to the waiting car. He did hope that it was simply a social call, but those crutches hadn’t seemed so innocent. Were their histories so similar? Did this mean he’d gone back in time when he’d crossed universes? Then why wasn’t Dwyre going out to give the Andersons their pendulums, to see Reed be a love-struck fool, and generally be stubbornly prideful that for once someone was found, not lost?

Dwyre scowled. “I am not one of the Wonderland Girls, they’re insane. I stayed up all night trying to find Anderson’s sister and even then no one believed me. I had to email it to the news station as an ‘anonymous tip’.” She paused, her recent fury over trying to help the only nice member of the gang passing for a second, trying to figure out why her double’d be asking. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with them in your world.”

Dwight looked distraught, how could that be? A hunter worked alone but Dalton had only been worth it because of those crazy people he called his friends. To imagine a world without that- “I-“

He didn’t get to answer as a short girl in a lab coat bounded out of the common room after the conspirators, “Pavarotti is gone!”

Dwyre sighed, things just kept getting better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For those who don't get it, this chapter is vaguely in/after the events of "Paint"- where big events are kept the same, but details are changed. So yes, there's also some time travel but I figure it's covered in the Alternate Universe tag. 
> 
> 2\. Explanation about Dana and Kevin (David and Katherine)- I decided there was an opportunity for some happiness here. David, in the accident which left Katherine in poor health, was saved because of their positions in the car. I figure Katherine was so hurt because she's very petite, Dana however is not (she's not bulky, but she's significantly sturdier than Katherine). David wasn't too hurt because honestly seatbelts are made with male bodies in mind, so Kevin, despite his own thin frame, was only mildly injured. So while this version will include no Devin wedding, there is no need for a heart transplant. 
> 
> The "speed demon" joke just comes in as Kevin is a reckless driver, thus the accident- or it's a sex joke. Take your pick.


	4. The Pavarotti Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close call from the Wonderland girls means Dwyre is adamant Dwight stays in the attic. But with Pavarotti the prized Warbler on the loose, and Tanya Hendricks poking her nose where they don't belong, it will be hard to keep the chaos controlled.

Of all the stupid plans Dwyre had seen over the course of her career at Dalton, this perhaps was the stupidest. Leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs, chaos unfolded much like a bomb collapsing any kind of order like foundation pillars. At the centre of it all was of course the fluttering yellow bird worth more in school pride than the 12$ it had cost at the pet store.

“Grab it!” Drew yelled, her hair already out of its three separate hair ties required by lab protocol. Her goggles somehow survived despite the three crashes she’d already had with other students. By her side Aki supported her with an equally challenged look in her eyes, clutching their new invention of a net launcher made of mattress springs and bra straps.

“I’ve got it!” The net flew across the room, only to catch Reed with a loud thump as she hit the ground shrieking. Pav however stayed above their heads, teasingly just out of reach.

Their prefect still hadn’t been alerted to the situation, but given the mayhem Dwyre and Tanya knew it was just a matter of time. Dana was trying to help Reed get untangled as a couple freshmen threw hats and scarves to bring Pav down softly. But the amount of tumbles and skirt flashes didn’t get them any closer to reclaiming the bird.

“I’m open!” Elizabeth called to her girlfriend. Blair tossed the soft knit cap through the air hoping to capture Pavarotti in the crossfire. Elizabeth grabbed, but it didn’t get the bird and instead Liz bumped into a vase, which shattered on the ground. There was only enough time for a well placed chorus of “kiss kiss fall in love” before Elizabeth directed them back to Drew and Aki’s plan.

“Do you think they’ll catch Pavarotti?” Tanya asked. She sat next to Dwyre, her legs poking out between the posts of the railing on the upper landing. Tanya far more invested in the insanity than the other. Dwyre still had her eyes trained on the scuttling girls though, a welcome distraction from her recent troubles.

“If they don’t the Dean will skin the Warblers.” Dwyre said, scraping under her nails. Her voice was still monotone, which annoyed Tanya, who had hoped dragging her downstairs to view the silliness would make her crack a smile.

The girls down on the ground floor had monopolized all corners of the common room trying to chase the bird. A couch, two lamps, and a coffee cup had already been ruined in the crossfire, on top of the ridiculously expensive vase. Blair shouted as the end table she’d used as a boost fell over and her hands uselessly grasped where Pavarotti had just been. Some of the girls were trying basket tosses but no one had the right aim to get close. It was a demon bird Dwyre concluded, it would not be caught until everyone in Windsor had some kind of property damage for the day.

“Well at least the bird is still in the house at least, right?”

“I guess,” Dwyre said, “but they’re- oh crap.”

Tanya looked up confused, Dwyre springing up and racing to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Tanya wasn’t sure what was going on but the twins were swinging heavy nets down on the ground floor like the madwomen they were. Drew was leaning too far out on the bannister, and Aki had the launcher poised at the yellow bird right on front of Drew’s fingers…

“You idiots!” was all Dwyre said before crashing into the rail, knocking Drew back just as the heavy net shot right where she had just been. But in her haste to save Drew from a fall, Dwyre herself went tumbling off the bannister. She yelped, the hit and forward flip throwing her off the multileveled stair in a spectacularly graceless fall. The twins, who had been looking up anyways, tossed their nets down and sprung to catch her.

A murmur went through the room. Drew looked down confused, and Aki groaned as Pavarotti disappeared into the rafters. The twins and Dwyre were in a tangled heap on the floor from the Brightmans’ rescue attempt.

Edith and Evelyn chuckled, holding tighter to the dark girl on top of them cursing up a storm. “Hello milady knight, how kind of you to drop by.”

“Shut up, you wouldn’t have caught Drew and she’d have a broken neck.” Dwyre snapped, elbowing them and rolling off.

The twins pulled her back, “You don’t know that.” Edith said, Evelyn kissed her hand. “But it’s always a pleasure to have you being a paranoid nutcase for us common folk.”

Dwyre pulled her hand back, a scowl etched on her face as she got up. She threw the net back over at Aki who was pondering with others if another basket toss could them up to the ceiling. “You still haven’t found the bird so save it for Chaz before we’re all done for.”

“As you wish.” The twins giggled, “Next time we’ll be the damsels okay?”

“We’re all freakin’ damsels, it’s a damn school for damsels.” Dwyre grumbled from the foot of the stairs, not bothering to engage the Windsor girls, but especially not the twins, anymore today.

Conversation had shifted back again, ignoring the tumble as business-as-usual. The twins as well simply shrugged and continued. Only Tanya tried to get Dwyre’s attention but it didn’t really matter as she brushed by towards the interior of the house.

“Dwyre! Come back!” Tanya was left sitting at the rail, rather rejected. And Pavarotti still hadn’t been caught. Perfect morning right?

**_\---_ **

If there was one thing the mayhem had been good for, it was distracting the conspirators from Dwyre sneaking around the house on behalf of her damn double. It had been easier to get food upstairs without people commenting how she usually ate like a bird, which was untrue but no one believed genetics made her predisposed to thinness. She’d hardly gotten any hunting done, but finally Dwight had been showing his usefulness. He had organized her desk-strewn notes in an attempt to cut boredom. She wouldn’t let him look up trans-dimensional rifts in case he had indeed _chosen_ to come here, but anything else was fair game.

At least Dwyre thought it was to cut boredom. When she went up with a couple sandwiches that lunch period she didn’t know that Dwight had been on edge since the sounds that morning. Only the sounds of the attic latch unlocking let him know it wasn’t another explosion.

He nodded politely as she put a sandwich next to him, sitting on a battered wingback chair nicked from the library cleanup last spring. Dwight practically inhaled the food, but mostly out of nervousness. He hadn’t broken down or had an episode since the first time, but to know the cause was not something paranormal scared him more than demons ever could. Inhuman monsters and states of being could be rationalized, fought, and disputed; cast off and on with spells and words. Human problems, well those were a little unpredictable. Force of will was not a weapon against bumps in your own head.

“What do you have?” Dwyre asked, picking up a pile of transcribed notes in Dwight’s thin looping script.

“I tried putting them chronologically, but there are no dates on any of these hunting diaries-”

“Journals.” Dwyre corrected. He frowned but continued.

“Anyways, you have a lot of good information here but I thought then I could organize it into mentions of various creatures and fill it in with my own knowledge. Like the bestiary in _Teen_ _Wolf_. I mean John Winchester had the right idea, but a Men of Letters approach is really needed to make it work.”

“It was Mary Winchester who had the journal dimwit, that’s a hunter thing. Her husband destroyed it for witchcraft after her death.” Dwyre said, throwing the notes back down but not disputing them.

“Clearly the writers in this universe are high as nuts here. That’s a terrible idea.” Dwight piled the finished notes in a binder beside him. “But the point is there’s a lot of speculation but not much fact here, you’re not researching as much as you should. Books have a lot of important information about the supernatural that could really help.”

“Who says it’s speculation?’ Dwyre asked. Dwight wondered if that scowl was a shared trait or just hers, probably hers. “Books are useful up to a point. I can’t place blind faith in texts which would condemn me as possessed myself just for wearing trousers.”

Dwight blinked. He’d never thought of that. A lot of the texts he consulted were medieval or reformation age; and many of the views on witches and demons did paint people like Sadie, or Dwyre as people to be feared for their rival knowledge to the church.

“But you can’t just go hunting without preparation, you need to know what to recognize as dangerous.” Dwight argued. There were countless inconclusive points in her notes, sightings and mentions which simply didn’t match up to any creatures he had ever encountered.

“I let you off the hook despite what the books say so be grateful deviation.” Dwyre took his revisions and started notating them herself.

Dwight was almost impressed. “That’s a new one.” He stretched and winced, rubbing his shoulder, the pain still there despite finally getting something a little stronger than an aspirin in his system.

Dwyre’s frown deepened, putting her pen down and standing up. “Shirt off.”

“What?” He looked up alarmed.

Dwyre rolled her eyes, leaning over to untuck the borrowed shirt. “This is the fourth time you’ve rubbed it, clearly it isn’t healing right. Let me see.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” To Dwight it wasn’t the soreness, but knowing he was less useful to whatever purpose he had here which bugged him. Writing out notes made it seem like he was doing something in his mission to aid Dwyre, but honestly he’d be more help if he could watch from the shadows like a bodyguard.

He couldn’t even guard his own body, he thought morosely as Dwyre got the shirt off anyway, inspecting his shoulder in that clinical way a doctor or an alien would.

Peeling back the wrapping she made an impressed sound. “Nearly all closed. The skin’s growing back a little raw but you don’t look like a _Saw_ victim anymore. I think we can leave the wrapping off now. Wimp.”

Finally, Dwight thought as Dwyre unwound the cotton and dumped it in the trashbag under the desk. She went to the shelf and got the mixture she’d used on him before and tossed it over. “When I’m not here you’re going to have to try and spread it on yourself, I’m not your nurse.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“I’m acting like a professional.” She snapped back, taking the jar back from him and dabbing it on his shoulder.

 “Sure.”

“I’m not here to coo over you. If you want to make yourself useful and not disparage my journals you can make some anti-love spell bags for the valentine’s fair.” Dwyre said, purposely layering the mixture on thick so that it stung Dwight more.

“Ow, shit! Come on. That’s professional? And I’m just your servant right now?” Dwight asked.

“You complain more than my cousins, and they’re three.”

Dwight relented. “Okay fine. But I need to get out again eventually. My shoulder isn’t going to be bummed forever, and Reed and Merril have already seen me.”

She sighed. “You are not leaving this attic.”

“Well at least tell me if you caught Pavarotti. He’s as important here as he is in my universe I bet. You’ve figured out how to catch him right? I caught him in my universe, you’ve got to do it here.” Dwight insisted. “It’s your duty as hero of the house.”

“You’re kidding me right?” Dwyre asked. “I have a bigger picture of ley lines and ancient curses to break in this school than to prove I can catch a bird that only affects one part of the school’s population.”

“I bet I could do it, he’s probably easier to catch the second time round.” Dwight said as she finished up and he reached down for his shirt. If this day ended in any way, it was going to end right, with the universe forgetting this weird path where there were no idiot Tweedles or white rabbit to protect. He’d get her involved somehow.

“You try getting involved, I‘ll curse your feet off, or something far more sensitive.” Dwyre said- but Dwight couldn’t respond in a justifiably horrified manner before Dwyre shouted, “Tanya! Get out!”

Dwight’s head snapped towards the doorway where a bespectacled girl stood at the door with a wide-eyed look on her face akin to both surprise, and intrigue. Feeling himself turn red he tugged his shirt on as quickly as possible, “this is literally NOTHING like it looks! Seriously! No!”

Dwyre elbowed him back into his chair, accidentally he hoped, before striding across the room and trying to force Tanya out. “Don’t you have lunch with the Newspaper committee?”

“I was worried you were still hurt from the fall this morning, and well you don’t usually leave the ladder to the attic down most days- so I brought tea.” Tanya uselessly held the paper tray of cups embossed with the Dalton Newspaper logo, but her eyes weren’t on the drinks, but flickering between Dwyre and Dwight. “But I guess you found something different?”

Dwight was about to protest the implications again before Dwyre cut him off. “The ladder was an oversight. You are not supposed to be up here. My cousin’s visiting and I knew Charlene would be mad I have a boy in the house. He’s got a condition, hence the shirt.”

Tanya turned red herself, “Oh cousin? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply- I’m so sorry.”

“Literally? You know me Tanya.” Dwyre’s monotone was even more pronounced next to Tanya’s bright words.

Tanya felt even more chastised. “Charlene wouldn’t mind I’m sure. If he’s family, and especially if he’s not feeling well.”

“He’s happier up here, trust me.” Dwyre said, cutting the matter off.

Dwight got up but again his retorts were cut off. “Well if it’s not too much trouble I’d be happy to keep him company, make sure Charlene doesn’t find him. You know I have a free period after this.”

“Tanya-”

A strange look came over Tanya’s face. “No, I insist. Now you get going, lunch is almost over and your teacher will murder the whole class if you’re not there on time.” And with that Dwyre found herself pushed out of the attic and Dwight was alone with a strange girl with an odd relationship with his friendless double.

“Uhh hi I’m Dwyre’s cousin-”

Tanya rolled her eyes and declined the hand he was stretching out towards her. “I know you’re not her cousin, it’s a matter of public record. You look like twins, not children of siblings. So first we’re going to take a walk, and second, you’re going to tell me who you really are okay?”

“But,” Dwight was nervous, if this girl wanted to harm Dwyre would he be adding fuel to the flames? His instincts didn’t seem to work as well since he was brought here. Either way there was a chance to get out of Windsor, or the trembling downstairs was starting to worry him.

“She’s my roommate, I worry about her. Now start moving.” Tanya said, holding the door open for him. Uneasily, he did as she asked.

\---

Meanwhile, as Dwight was coopted by her roommate, Dwyre was getting out of class early for asking too many questions. As if there was such things. Even if she wasn’t asking, but rather declaring, and assuming all things she’d asserted were universal. Needless to say the teacher was glad to be rid of her.

About to get a head start to her next class she found herself grabbed and pulled behind a potted plant by the blonde terrors: Evelyn and Edith. As always personal space was optional and Dwyre immediately started squirming away from the insufferable pair.

“Is there a reason you keep trying to commandeer me for your antics? I’m not an accessory you know.” Dwyre said, Edith’s hand holding her firm around the shoulder though.

“Shh,” the twins hissed. “Watch, this is prime trouble running amock.” They gestured between the ferns at Elizabeth Hummel who was just getting out of class, pursued by Blair.

“We thought you liked to be informed on what voodoo was being cooked up on this school.” They offered, pulling Dwyre further into the plant to watch.

“I don’t understand how you can go over to Stuart and be there with _her._ ” Blair spat, betrayal written across her face.

“I don’t understand why you don’t understand I’m not _choosing_ to be there. This is mandatory. It’s not some kind of secret.” Elizabeth said, not acknowledging her girlfriend’s irrationalities.

“But it’s Jessica! You can’t expect she’s not going to try something. I don’t like it.” Blair said, catching up with Elizabeth and tugging her back.

“You may not like it, but she wouldn’t dare, I’m with you.” Elizabeth said,

Evelyn and Edith nudged Dwyre, “See. Trouble in paradise. If our Knave of Hearts gets wind of this she’ll be over the moon Alice is defending her honour.”

Elizabeth shoved her messenger bag behind her to properly look down at Blair, “Now either you trust me, or you don’t trust me.”

Blair groaned, “It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s her!”

“Oh so she’ll speak to me and all of a sudden I’m going to start swooning, yeah that’s likely.” Elizabeth spat back, trying to walk away before Blair grabbed her arm.

“No, come on Liz. I just mean she has this way of getting under people’s skin,” Blair said, but by this time Dwyre had already tuned out, wondering what fascination Elizabeth Hummel held over the student body. It was a little like a siren, except she didn’t have to sing for people to be obsessed with her. Though she did sing, so perhaps her gift was just exceedingly powerful. She’d have to conduct more investigation.

Evelyn elbowed her, “Pay attention little knight, this is important.”

Dwyre rolled her eyes and tried getting out from under them again, “exactly how is this going to help with knowing the future of trouble in this school? Shouldn’t I be stalking Wright then?”

“No, Jess is consistently up to no good.”

“Even when she insisted being called by her middle name.”

“Her butch period was hilarious.”

“So unsuited to it.”

“Anyway,” the twins continued, “Elizabeth and Blair are new together, but remember last year? You can count on Jess to split them up,”

“But tensions are high now with Pavarotti missing, unless someone catches that little thing the Warblers are sensitive to any kind of conflict.”

“But as long as these two stick together we have time for someone clever to catch the bird before a gigantic blow-out that rivals the reveal of your succubus list.”

Edith cuddled closer to their captive hunter, who was noticing how hidden they were in the potted plant, “Thank you for listing us so high by the way, the list of offenses was quite tasteful.”

Evelyn looked down as well, twisting Dwyre’s braid between her fingers, “Even higher than Julia Larson-“

“Are we done here?” Dwyre interrupted, sardonic as always.

“Only if you’d like us to be.” The twins teased. “You’re looking quite pretty today you know.”

Dwyre gave them a deadpan stare. “Your marks are getting away.”

Indeed Blair was chasing a frustrated Elizabeth halfway down the hallway; and Dwyre used the twins’ distraction as an opportunity to slip away.

They both were impossible, and no matter how little she responded to their advances the more they seemed interested. There were more important things to worry about- like their influence over the school, their omniscient knowledge of the inner workings of the administration; or, more personally pressing, her own doppleganger who, for some reason, was goading her into catching the stupid school warbler.

She was late for her next class, and all she could think of was the twins’ hints how dangerous it could be if the Warbler wasn’t caught. How could one bird cause so much trouble? But if “someone clever” caught it… well, that useless boy in the attic could do it, better for everyone if there was one less stressor in this powder keg of a school.

And as if a light went off in her head, in her class even the teacher noticed how oddly quiet she was, as she was plotting how to catch the uncatchable.

\---

He tugged at his pentacle nervously, her motives suspect but he didn’t have any weaponry at the moment. “Christo,” he muttered, but Tanya just snorted and led him down the stairs in the common room, her non-descript appearance doing more for the two seniors to keep their heads down at their notes.

She gave him her hat as they wandered towards the greenhouse, the day milder than February regularly was. It had been an early winter, so the soft snowflakes felt almost like rain. Now he had his suspicions, but he was going to try and let her talk first since she obviously could get him kicked out of the school. The name, the roommate comment, perhaps…

“Alright,” she said as they got to the doorway of the warm, and empty greenhouse. “Spill.”

“I don’t think you’ll believe me.” Dwight admitted. “Not many people do.”

Tanya gave him a deadpan look. “Supernatural origins?”

“Wh-what?” Dwight was taken aback. “How did you guess that?”

“I’m her roommate. Anything she’s mixed up with is usually along the lines of ‘thinks he’s possessed’ or ‘requested a séance’. She thought I was a lamia when she got a cold. Seriously, I might not believe you but humour me.” She unravelled her scarf and folded it, putting it next to one of the flowering tomato plants.

Dwight didn’t know where to begin, but if she was open-minded… she could be an ally. But last time he thought someone might believe him, he had to fight with them to even get a security tape looked at. But anything had to help.

“My name’s Dwight Houston, well, there was a portal. I was sent by my brother’s ghost. Someone’s in danger here, and I guess as her double it’s my job to help. That’s why we look so alike, we’re kind of the same person.” Dwight spilled out, awkward sentences and fidgeting aside he thought it was pretty concise.

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Tanya didn’t seem to believe him, but she had known Dwyre for long enough that there was an incredible amount of similarities. Oddly enough his twitching and odd rambling reminded her of Dwyre before the suspension invited her quiet, warrior stoic act. And people like Dwyre if they believed something it was a tangible part of their reality not simply a possibility. “So do you know who I am?”

He paused. “Um, there’s a lot of differences but I would guess you’re the double of my roommate back home, Todd Hendricks.”

Her last name was something that could easily be looked up in the school records but she was impressed nonetheless. “Alright then, Dwight, I trust you. If Dwyre hasn’t killed you for being a lookalike she must be keeping you around for some reason.” Tanya crossed her arms, relaxing against the planters. “So since we’re friends in a roundabout way, what brings you here besides a ghost story?”

It was a surreal experience. He knew Tanya didn’t believe him, but then again Todd never had, but she was indulging him anyway. He was supposed to help Dwyre fix something, or save her from something, it didn’t make much sense but he didn’t have Laura here to point things out or any of his friends to contact with theories. At least they had someone in common who was, kind of, in on things.

“I’m from a Dalton in another universe. Dwyre’s trying to send me back but there was a big accident before I was sent here; that’s probably why Dwyre didn’t completely throw me down the stairs.” Dwight said, feeling like he was recounting it to a police officer. The flames weren’t leaping in his face, but he felt their heat as his mind went back to Parent’s Night- not even a week ago… he swallowed those words. “It wasn’t even a demon, but a freak named Adam who was stalking one of the Stuarts. He almost burned down the Art Hall and I… I was screwed. I thought I was going to die but instead I was sent here. I don’t even know if there’s a version of me back there, or if they just think I crisped up.”

Tanya had a quiet look on her face. Was he lying? Was he telling the truth? She felt like he hadn’t had anyone listen this intently for a while. There was something about the scars she could see on his hands that chilled her, made her think about bubbling fat.

She swallowed. “You mentioned a ghost sent you here, who was it?” Another hunch, but she had to be sure. Mass delusions aside this boy was connected to her roommate but he seemed so ignorant.

“Um.” Dwight looked away, becoming quite interested in a mint plant. And while it was quite impressive in it’s size they both knew the uncomfortably stifled air was not going to be cleared unless they said it aloud.

“Dwyre, Dwight. Tanya, Todd. Alanna, Alan- right?” Tanya asked. Her heart went out to the boy, she’d seen everyone’s pitying looks towards Dwyre last year when they realized why she was holed up in her room with a little ballerina music box and a child’s plastic wand. It was just a google search away, and everyone had gotten a sorry surprise when they tried bring it up- getting a door to the face for their troubles.

“No one really knows about it back home.” Dwight twitched, “You’re not a witch in this world are you? You’re guessing a lot of stuff right on.”

Tanya looked confused, but continued. “I’m not a witch, I just have an internet connection. People tried to give Dwyre sympathy cards for it last year but she kind of blew up on them. It’s a touchy topic to lose a sibling, it’s why she was so angry about the Wonderland Girls ignoring her help with Shaena.” Tanya paused, “We still on the same page here?”

“Yeah,” Dwight said, imagining Dwyre wringing someone’s neck for bringing up their sibling. Easy enough to see her doing, but him… he just shut down that day, and no one knew. But she’d woken up. He felt a wave of admiration for her and even more confusion on how she could not be any closer than him to answers. “But Dwyre’s not friends with them, I am in my world, why is that?”

Tanya shrugged, “I think it’s cause guys are more easygoing; things are really polarized if you’re a girl. Boy’s don’t get it but words can hurt, and we’ll find anything to pick at and undermine a person. One moment you’re accepted by a clique and the next they’re picking at a lack of boyfriend, or your bad makeup-”

“That sounds really petty, I don’t believe that.” Dwight cut in.

Tanya shrugged, “Well then maybe it’s because Dwyre’s gotten more than a couple strikes against her with the discipline board because of all that salt stuff. Someone accidentally drank her salt slushie experiment and nearly lost their vocal chords.”

“But Dalton has a no bullying policy, and that sounds like an honest accident in the name of hunting!” Dwight insisted, actually shocked that his schoolmates, just simply switched like this would have caused such a rift.

“Guys can probably get away with things like that because you’re all expected to be physical, but Dwyre didn’t just spray people with holy water, she tackled Wendy Hughes when she thought the girl had put the evil eye on her. She’s just lucky people have labeled her the school crazy.” Tanya said sadly. She knew the reality of the school was that anything the girls said had to be documented or they’d simply start reporting each other daily. It was only testimonies from other students which saved Dwyre time and time again. But if she broke the conditions of her suspension then she would be expelled. “And really, the two of you don’t really give off an approachable vibe. Are you really surprised?”

“Actually yeah.” Dwight said, gesturing like it’d help his case. “I’ve gotten ankle deep in elephant crap but I’m not a hoodlum! And Dwyre… well it’s not fair! Did someone curse her?”

Tanya rolled her eyes. “Do you think someone would curse her and get away with it?”

No. Not really. He didn’t say that but his sheepish look told her enough.

“If you think you’re here for a reason I’ll help you and her, but if somehow you end up more trouble than you’re worth I’m siding with her okay? She’ll be freaked I told you this, but she needs more friends on her side. She likes to think she can exist alone but she can’t.” Tanya said. Dwight didn’t quite understand the softened look Tanya had as she spoke, but he was never much good at understanding girls besides Sadie.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I’m here to help her, even if we don’t know with what.” Dwight said.

It was enough for Tanya to nod solemnly before grinning. “So, if you can’t help her right now, you can at least help _me_ with some articles. Let’s go!” She took him by the arm and Dwight was dragged, confused and conflicted, to the Newspaper’s office by his new ally. However there was no disguising him in a ponytail or something silly like that when the other club members saw him.

“He’s from Dobry Hall, don’t worry, he’s helping me with my articles.” And, despite being known as the keen distributors of gossip, the club assumed a major story on the way from their sophomore reporter and kept quiet as the strange boy sat and muttered with Tanya in the corner.

Tanya left him in there, ordering him to edit her articles until she came to collect him after class. No one asked him anything, and for a good hour Dwight wondered if the boys in Newspaper back home were like this. He had never actually had a proper conversation with them without ruining their printer because he thought a gremlin had taken over the school network. It was nice, like the opposite of Windsor entirely, although he thought he identified some of his classmates in their alternate incarnations.

Only when Tanya returned did they really open up and begin a conversation, as the others in the club started to file out to get ready for dinner in their own houses, or go home in the case of the few Day students.

“So you caught the warbler in your Dalton?” Tanya asked, “Did I help?”

Dwight shook his head as they walked down the hall, keeping to the shadows. “Not really. I do a lot of things myself if people think they’re too crazy to work. Kurt helped me, but not directly. His scarves seemed to attract Pav.”

“I’m not sure that would work here, a lot of girls wear perfume, so individual scents don’t seem to affect the bird. I mean it might like Drew but I doubt using her lab coat would work.” Tanya said casually before tensing and pushing Dwight quickly behind a curtain.

“Hey what was th-“ Dwight protested, wanting to know what was going on before Tanya shushed him.

“I’m saving your butt.” She whispered before turning to the twin blondes coming towards her directly. “Hi Edith, Evelyn.”

Dwight cringed, that was why. If the guys he knew were perceptive he didn’t want to know how eerily all-knowing they could be as women.

“Hi Tanya, who’s the boy you’re hiding behind the curtain?”

Crap, Dwight froze. Apparently very perceptive.

“He’s cute isn’t he?”

“We didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Maybe you should lend your boy to Reed.”

“She’s been so down since Shaena stopped returning her calls.”

“We could all use a little sneaky fun.”

Tanya rolled her eyes, as if it wasn’t a deal. “As if, he’s helping me with my articles, but Chaz would freak out if she knew I let a boy in here.”

The twins smiled, “Of course.”

“You have your eye on someone else anyway.”

“Good luck if you crack that tough nut before we do.”

Tanya stared at them. “Yeah, you keep thinking that. Anyways you should probably go, you know Chaz wants to keep an eye on you after you put her in the ICU for a month. You’re going to give her a nervous breakdown if you don’t swear your innocence once an hour.”

“But it’s more fun when she worries.” Edith laughed. “Our own little mother hen.”

“More like the little old lady who lived in a shoe.” Evelyn suggested with a laugh.

“She had so many children she didn’t know what to do.” Edith finished with her sister, collapsing into giggles at the image of their prefect in the specific rhyme. Tanya just waited patiently for them to leave, their parting, ‘you two have fun’ making Dwight grimace as Tanya pulled him out when the coast was clear.

“They’re insane,” Dwight declared, throughally unnerved by their synchronicity and perky recitation, “I mean I thought the ones I knew were insane but give them high heels and they’d probably castrate you with a spoon.”

Tanya looked up. “Do you talk like this with my male self?”

“Like what?” Dwight asked, clueless to his less than filtered speech patterns.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you upstairs before Dwyre’s the one holding the spoon.”

Luckily they didn’t have to find out.

\---

Dwyre cut out of class before anyone else had a chance to even stand, her feet almost caught in a determined rhythm as she dodged elbows and bookbags on the way back to Windsor. She would catch that bird, not Drew or Aki or Reed or Elizabeth or Chaz or Wendy or Dana, or even those infernal twins, and especially not that damn doppelgänger of hers; who seemed convinced she was a pale comparison to his own useless achievements. A bird was nothing compared to ghosts, and it would be easy to catch the thing and show Windsor her skills were not something to be hidden in order to be useful.

The bird was nowhere to be seen when she entered the common room; but the scarves and pillows lining the windows seemed to be evidence that Pavarotti would not have been able to escape without a good deal of ingenuity.

The prefects Charlene and Austina were in the open-doored kitchen drinking tea. Surrounded by boxes of building supplies, stacks of pink construction paper, red and white flyers, a dozen rose species, and about twenty different booth schematics it was obvious that they were coordinating last minute plans for the Valentine’s Fair. When Dwyre wandered in, it was at a rather tenuous moment in the conversation; but she ignored them, looking through the cupboards in case the bird had fluttered in without notice by the prefects.

“What are you up to now Dwyre?” Charlene asked, putting down her almost finished tea cup to Austina’s disapproving glance.

She shrugged. “Looking for a snack.” Nope, the crackers hadn’t been touched by beak or hand alike; and the trail mix was still half full like it had been before yesterday.

“You aren’t trying to add salt to the chocolate stash again are you?” Charlene cautioned her. “I don’t need a repeat of last time we had to get thirty girls a new supply on such short notice, especially two days until Valentines.”

“Chaz, tea.” Austina gestured. “Remember your stress levels.”

Dwyre ignored her prefect’s warnings, knowing full well Charlene had stubbornly advocated for her probationary period alongside Tanya. The older girl was prickly, easily exasperated, and constantly on the verge of a migraine, but she was fiercely protective of all her idiotic charges; including Dwyre, considering she was one of the few who didn’t call her ‘Houston’.

“I swear you all are going to drive me into an early grave.” Charlene muttered, pinching one of the few but prominent silver hairs on her head and brushing it behind her ear. She took another sip before Dwyre closed the last of the cabinet doors.

“And yet you haven’t given up the post.” Dwyre said blasély, closing the last of the cupboard doors and walking out as Austina went over the Valentine’s Day schedule one more time; offering another cup of tea and painkillers for each new addendum.

Dwyre however wouldn’t let a suspicious prefect stop her from catching that bird. If it wasn’t in near the food it probably was starting to get hungry and most likely hadn’t left the rafters from this morning. She wanted to see if she was right, but she couldn’t get a good view from the stairs. Luckily whatever few students were milling around dismissed her actions as ‘the house crazy doing crazy things’.

It’d be quite easy to climb up there and see for herself, but if the bird was hungry and scared of behind stuffed in a net… well, she’d do well to be prepared.

So a minute or two she was scrabbling up a plaster bust and crown moulding, fumbling to find a foothold. Boosted up high enough she grabbed the rafter support and hauled herself up onto the beams above the common room.

She felt more than a little badass, shoes off and collection of pillowcases tied around her in a sling for some assorted bird treats from the owl sanctuary off campus. And while all this effort was being done to catch a canary of pomp-and-circumstance, she was starting to see the appeal of doing this tiny heroic deed. It wasn’t sneaking into offices to counteract hexes on students from the probable warlock headmaster or slipping charms into purses, but it was adventurous.

Looking for the bird, she held her arms out, walking along the beams, ignoring their creaks. When she caught Pavarotti did she want for them to make a fuss? Yes. She would in effect be saving their asses from detention, and as the Twins hinted, complete annihilation of self-worth if the Warblers went down. They were school icons, and to have their mascot starve to death up here would be stupid.

She spotted a flash of yellow near the south corner and edged closer. When she got close enough she straddled the beam and set up the sling into a small nest, filled with the treats and Tanya’s softest bedding. She wouldn’t mind Dwyre was certain.

The yellow feathers fluttered forward as Dwyre held herself completely still, certain the treats would overcome Pavarotti’s survival instinct, allowing him to be caught.

Holding her breath Dwyre watched as Pavarotti came over the beams to sit in front of the nest. He pecked innocently at the beam, peeping with each hop he took towards the nest. One more hope and she would have him, her fingers twitched.

A loud peep and Pav landed in the nest, and Dwyre snatched it to her lap immediately. The canary flapped, trying to get away. Dwyre scooped her hands around it’s erratic wings, holding him in the cage of her hands as steadily as she could.

“Shhh you silly bird. Calm down, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Stroking the top of Pavarotti’s feathered head was soothing to both of them. Pavarotti grew still and ceased his escape attempts.

She took one of the treats and offered it to Pav, cupped to her chest like an awkwardly sized chibbata. As he pecked, she considered the tony feathered menace who had resulted in her collision with the twins that morning. All this fuss for a bird? Would she really get lauded as the hero she was if she delivered it back?

Her doppelgänger seemed to think so; insisting it was a great moment for his Windsor house. But he was a member of those crazy conspirators. Dwyre generally disliked anything about the Wonderland girls, and even when she did try to restore balance in the house it went unappreciated. Shae was a prominent example, but other times she’d found or dispensed of danger no one believed in her. They thought she was a freak for believing in ghosts, for salting her dorm room, for trying to hunt the shadows. They didn’t know that there was danger in those shadows; hadn’t Alanna proven that? They all knew about her but wrote it off as the ‘reason’.

Pavarotti chirped, as if to disagree with her but Dwyre sighed, looking down at the floor below her. The three strikes to suspension had been a surprise for her, and if she was found with the prize warbler the administration would have her struck straight to expulsion. Funny how she got a strike for pointing out Logan was a problem in her list, but no one believed her. Even when Wright decided to assault Blair over the soloist, there was no word to the administration. But foreshadow the whole thing and get your head on a platter, great.

She ran a finger down Pavarotti’s little wings and made her choice; no one would know but her stupid doppelgänger. She didn’t want him to assume she was some kind of helpless damsel, if anything his title of ‘White Knight’ paled beside her own record with the title, if only through better company.

“Stay quiet.” Dwyre ordered the bird, rebuilding the sling and carefully placing the bird inside. She got a couple odd looks as she descended the rafters with a swear and a thud, but it was considered business as usual around her. No one saw the bird, and it was simple to rush to Blair’s room and tuck the bird inside the cloth-covered cage.

Pavarotti cheeped brightly as she slid the gold latch closed and left the room, leaving no trace that she had been there. Instead, she went back up the ladder to the attic, where Tanya and Dwight were waiting, as if no time had passed at all.

“Did my cousin cause you any problems?” Dwyre asked awkwardly to Tanya, who was relaxing on the couch with Dwight sitting stiffly next to the dumbwaiter door.

“How did bird hunting go?” Tanya said with a smile.

“How did you know I caught Pavarotti?” She asked confused.

“Wait you caught him? That’s awesome!” Dwight congratulated, excited. “How’d you do it? Use well placed cages? Scent? Netting?”

“Calm down Dwight.” Tanya rolled her eyes. “Well if anyone could catch that thing it’s you, and Dwight may have said something about him catching it before. I trust you did it without a cage full of scarves?” Tanya said, folding her hands on front of her. The compliments worked wonders, Dwyre almost cracked a smile, not quite grasping what Tanya was hinting at.

“Simpler actually. I went up to the beams and carried him down.” Dwyre looked quietly pleased with herself.

Tanya looked doubly proud of her roommate, turning to Dwight, “See, a woman’s touch is far superior to your ham handed capture. I mean really?”

Dwight frowned, “Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean she has some kind of magical delicate touch with animals.”

Dwyre didn’t listen to anything Dwight said as she looked strangely at Tanya. “What happened when I was out?”

Tanya took that as her cue to get up, crossing the room with the pleased look still on her face. “I’m keeping an open mind about science fiction.” She patted Dwyre on the shoulder, “also people think I’m sneaking boys into the dorms now. Have fun with your brother from another dimensional mother.”

And with that, she swung down the ladder to watch the celebrations which were getting underway below them, heard through the vent as joyful shrieks rang through the halls of ‘Pav’s back! We found him!”

Dwight didn’t get a chance to say anything, as her steely glance told him she didn’t want to hear any pleadings or excuses. So he stayed silent lest he lose his tongue to a rusty butter knife she probably kept for this specific purpose.

There was a long silence before she left him alone in the room, her to her room to brood and him to stay curled in a ball as the first crash from downstairs’ celebration started his shakes anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deleted Line: “You going after the bird, or clone wars over here?” 
> 
> I was waffling for a while if I wanted to have Dwight and Tanya hide from the twins or Reed; and ultimately I liked the way the scene with the twins turned out better. So even though they're featured thrice in one chapter, I think they're going to feature a lot in the long run. Considering this whole fic is basically a platonically rendered love letter to my and my friend Mari's Dweedles/fem!Dweedles conversations. 
> 
> Additionally, I feel like I might have to make an innuendo bingo; take a shot each time someone implies they want to get all up on Dwyre or Dwight. Next chapter you might all get drunk from it because I'm taking on the Valentine's Fair and Baby Bancroft's coming in.


End file.
